


Runaways of the Force

by shadowmaat



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 16,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9897737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: A series of interconnected stories that imagine a universe where Obi-Wan wasn't chosen as a padawan and ran away from the AgriCorps after rescuing a young and angry Maul from a pit fight sponsored by his Master. Chapters are not chronological and jump around- some of them are set when they're kids, others when they're older. These are mostly answering prompts. Feel free to send 'em to me on my tumblr: shadowmaat





	1. In Your Arms

Obi-Wan had lost track of what planet they were on; there’d been so many in the months since he’d run away from the Agricorps. It hadn’t been by choice. Well, no, it had definitely been his choice, but he couldn’t see how any reasonable being would have expected him to do anything different. 

He scowled at the thought. His Masters had certainly seemed to think he shouldn’t have gotten involved. He shouldn’t have tried to save the life of a fellow Force wielder just because the wielder in question was steeped in Darkness. Obi might not have been good enough to be selected as a padawan, but he knew that a Jedi’s job was to help those in need. He’d never seen anyone who needed his help more than the skinny young zabrak he’d found struggling against a fully-grown rancor in an underground pit fight. It was hard to know who had been angrier at his interference, the bettors or the zabrak himself.

He glanced across the room at his companion, huddled in a threadbare cloak that did little to keep out the chill. It wasn’t doing much to hide the brilliant patterns of his red and black skin, either. They’d have to do something about that in the morning.

“Maul?”

“Shut up, Jedi,” Maul growled, hunching deeper into the shadows.

“If you’re cold…”

“I’m not cold!” Yellow eyes blazed at him. “I am not weak Jedi scum like you!”

Obi paused, trying to choose his words carefully. He’d made a lot of progress in the time they’d been together and was used to the insults, but Maul was still skittish as hell. He wasn’t sure what Maul’s life had been like before he’d rescued him, but the “Master” he kept referencing sounded like a monster straight out of nightmares. If he’d ever known a moment’s kindness it didn’t show.

“There are enough blankets for both of us.” He flapped the one wrapped around his shoulders. Maul had “acquired” them at some point during the day, shoving them into Obi’s arms with a muttered threat about not carrying his pale, weak ass if he collapsed from the cold.

“Pain makes you stronger! It drives out weakness!”

“No.” Obi grabbed some more blankets and shuffled across the small room. “Pain doesn’t make you stronger and suffering for no reason is stupid.”

“’M not stupid!”

“Then stop acting like it.” He made a nest out of the blankets and opened his arms. “C’mon, one night of being warm won’t kill you, I promise.”

Maul’s eyes gleamed in the dark and there was a flash of pale teeth. “Maybe I’ll kill you, instead!”

“That would be a terrible waste of blankets.”

There was a pause and a snort of what sounded like stifled laughter.

“Fine,” Maul said, scooting closer. “But only to make you stop whining.”

Obi smiled. He hadn’t thought it would work. Maul stopped just short of actually touching him, radiating tension.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” Obi did his best to project soothing emotions into the Force.

“I’d kill you first.”

“So you’ve said.”

Slowly, very slowly Obi shifted, wrapping his blanket-festooned arms around Maul. At the first touch Maul flinched, sending out a spike of fear that he quickly smothered again. After a frozen moment he started to relax, muscle by muscle, until he was leaning into Obi-Wan. Even through layers of clothes his skin felt like ice and Obi took a chance, hugging him closer.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” 

Maul growled, the sound vibrating through his chest. His whole body was trembling and Obi didn’t think it was just from the cold. If he ever found the man who did this, he’d kill him.

They shifted deeper into the blankets and the chill was replaced by a growing warmth of their combined body heat. He was still trying to project soothing thoughts towards Maul, not sure if it was having any effect. Maul’s shields were the strongest he’d ever encountered, but as he finally started to drift to sleep he thought he caught a thread of… something. And then he felt thin fingers wrap around his hand. Smiling, he pressed his nose against Maul’s shoulder and went to sleep.


	2. Your Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers the prompt of O Oberon: One character gets angry at another over something they did.

“This is all your fault!” Maul bared his teeth in a snarl. "Everything was fine before now! We were fine! We were surviving! We don't need this karking place!"

"We were _barely_ surviving." Obi-Wan tried to rake his hair in some semblance of order. "And we've been on the run for nearly a year!"

“So? It was working, wasn't it?" He wrinkled his nose. "If I'm such an _inconvenience_ for you maybe you shouldn't have jumped into that rancor pit with me!"

"Maul! That's not it! You _know_ that's not it!" Obi felt stung. He knew Maul was upset, but the accusation cut deep.

"I didn't need your stupid help anyway! I had a Master! I had a place where I belonged! I had purpose!”

“Your Master brutalized you, Maul.” Obi struggled to keep his voice level. “The only place you belonged was at his feet. You were nothing more than a tool to to him!”

“Yes!” Maul stamped his foot. “I was his tool! He was crafting me to be his chosen weapon, meant to strike down his enemies and- and- Stop looking at me like that!” He turned his back, too-thin shoulders hunching as he stalked across the cell they were both trapped in.

Obi sighed, approaching him with caution. “You aren’t a weapon, Maul, you’re a person. What your Master did was abuse.”

“He was trying to make me stronger!”

“Strength can be achieved through kindness, too.” Obi placed a hand on his shoulder. Maul flinched but then eased into his touch. His skin felt too cold under his fingers. “I didn’t know your situation when I jumped into that pit, but I knew I had to help you.”

“Fool,” Maul muttered, but there was no fire to it.

“Maybe so.” Obi smiled. “But I like to think that both of our lives were improved by that act of foolish kindness. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Maul shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I think. We’re here, now, thanks to you. They’re going to kill me.”

Obi squeezed his shoulder. “They aren’t going to kill you, I promise. And…” He hesitated, trying to figure out how to put his decision into words. _I’m only fourteen, I’m too young to provide for both of us. You need more training than I can give and we_ both _need protection from the monster hunting you._

“Oh yes? Are you going to stop them, then?” 

The question, and the tiredness behind it, interrupted his thoughts. “I won’t have to stop them,” he said, trying to project more confidence than he felt. “But if things go as badly as you fear then I’m sure we’ll think of something. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve managed a daring escape.”

Maul’s giggle- quickly smothered- was heartening to hear. A scuff of feet had them both turning towards the cell door. A Temple guard stood there, their mask unreadable. Maul pressed close against Obi’s chest and he slipped a protective arm around him.

“The Council will see you now,” the Guard said, unlocking the door.

Obi reached down, taking Maul’s hand in his own. “We’ll get through this. Together.”


	3. If you drop it, it's mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers the prompt SCARF- One character borrows (or steals) clothes from another.

“Maul, have you seen my-” Obi-Wan stopped, staring at the figure that glared back at him. He smiled. “Are you warm enough?”

“No. This planet is too karking cold. Why the kriff did you bring me here, anyway?” Maul tugged on the sleeve of what looked suspiciously like one of Obi's robes. It was layered over several other robes, which also looked familiar. 

“Are those… all mine?”

Maul puffed up, an angry red-and-black face in a sea of tans and browns. “I did not steal your ratty robes, Kenobi!” He sniffed. “It’s hardly _my_ fault that you drop them all over the place. “I’m simply claiming what you discarded. They’re mine, now.”

Obi laughed. “You make it sound as if I have a habit of discarding my robes, Maul. I can assure you that isn’t the case.”

“Every time you fight you dramatically discard another robe. Or when you want to make a point. Or when you think it makes you look _cool_.” He wrinkled his nose. “It doesn’t.”

“I didn’t realize you had such a tendency to over-exaggeration, my friend.” Obi was still smiling, but he could feel some heat creeping into his cheeks. He could recall one instance where he’d been trying to impress a pretty young Mirialan.

“Oh really?” Maul flicked his arms in a gesture that made his robes flare. 

It did look very familiar. And perhaps just a _tiny_ bit dramatic, when seen from this perspective. Obi felt his cheeks getting even warmer. A quick count also showed that he had to be wearing at least eight robes. Eight?  _All his?_ He felt a flutter in his stomach as he pictured Maul stomping around after him, collecting robes and snuggling into them. No, not snuggling. Just- just collecting. And occasionally wearing. Yes. Like now. He cleared his throat, trying to banish the errant thoughts from his head.

“Yes, well, ah, if you’re really that cold we could always go shopping, you know.”

Maul harrumphed, settling deeper into his borrowed robes. “I’m fine, Kenobi. Let’s just get this business over with so we can leave this accursed snowball of a world.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan.” He draped a casual arm around Maul as they left their quarters. They’d spent enough years together that he no longer flinched at the contact but moved in closer. For the heat, of course.

“I promise to be more careful with my robes,” he said. “You won’t be adding any more to your collection.”

“Ha! I’ll believe it when I see it.” Grinning, he plucked at the material of the robe Obi was wearing. “And what I believe is that I’ll see this robe on me before the day is through.”

“Is that a challenge?” Obi arched an eyebrow, feeling his heart race faster.

“With you around it’s more of a guarantee.” Golden eyes gleamed at him.

Obi smiled in return. “We’ll just see about that.”


	4. Headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers the prompt HEADACHE: One character cares for another, who's suffering from a headache.

“You’re not _dying_ , are you?” Maul was backed against the wall, staring at the couch.

Obi-Wan sighed. “I told you, it’s just a headache. I’ll be…fine.”

“You don’t _sound_ fine.” He sniffed the air, but couldn’t catch any trace of decay, illness, or approaching death. The Force held a haze of pain and if he concentrated he could almost sense ghostlike halos around everything, but there were no fatal warning signs to be found there, either.

“Maul, please. I just… need some rest.”

He sidled closer. Obi-Wan was stretched out on the couch with his eyes closed, breathing evenly. His hair was messy and he had a hand pressed to his forehead.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” The words felt dragged out of him. Offering to help went against everything he’d been taught. Or at least everything he’d been taught by his Master. Kenobi had done a lot to break his “conditioning” but even years later it didn’t come easily.

One bleary blue eye cracked open to look at him and a hint of a smile showed through the ridiculous fuzz he was growing on his face. “Water would be nice, thank you.”

Maul retrieved a tumbler of water. He also found a packet of painkillers in the medkit he’d liberated from the ship earlier in the week. It had seemed like an impulse at the time but now he was glad for it. Not that he _cared_ or anything. Kenobi had brought this on himself. But it would make it easier for both of them.

“Here.” He sat on the edge of the couch near Obi’s hip and offered the pills and water.

Both eyes squinted at him this time. “Ah. Thank you, Maul.”

Obi tried to sit up, both of them grimacing as pain spiked past his shields.

“Idiot!” Maul slammed the tumbler onto the table and slipped his arm around Obi’s shoulder, cradling his head as he helped lift him to a sitting position.

“Sorry,” Obi murmured, eyes closing again.

“You should be. Stupid Jedi, trying to make things worse.” He pressed the pills to Obi’s lips, trying to ignore the way bristly proto-beard made his skin tingle.

Lips parted and for a brief minute Maul’s finger slipped past the teeth and into his mouth. Heat bloomed in the pit of his stomach and he snatched his hand away to grab the water as Obi-Wan took a sharp breath, color showing in his pale cheeks.

“Here!” He managed not to slosh it as he held the glass to Obi-Wan’s mouth, but some of it did trickle down his chin as he drank. The room was too dim for it to really glisten in the light, but it was easy to imagine. He had no idea _why_ he was imagining it, though. It was irrational and of no consequence and would dry again quite easily without his interference.

“Thank you, Maul,” Obi-Wan murmured, reaching up to pat his arm. “I’m very glad you’re here.”

“ _I’m_ not,” he said, and was rewarded with another smile. He lowered him back on the couch, keeping his hand in place. “You should get your head examined, Kenobi. Maybe you’ve hit it one too many times and your brain is trying to swell out of your thick skull.”

Obi-Wan laughed and then winced. “Thank you for your concern, but it’s just a migraine. I recognize the signs, although this one’s a little stronger than usual.”

“I’m not concerned,” Maul said. “I just don’t want to deal with the nuisance of disposing of your body if you die.”

“Ah, Maul.” Obi’s fingers slid along his forearm, back and forth. “You always know the right thing to say, my friend. What would I do without you?”

Maul can think of a few things he’d like to do _with_ him and the realization startles him. He stands, backing away from the couch.

“I should… should let you rest.”

“Hmm? Oh. Yes, that would be a good idea.” He yawned. “I’ll let you know if I need anything else, Nurse Maul. Thanks.”

Ignoring the joke- and the way it made him feel- Maul turned and left the room. He’d never run from a fight before and he wasn’t running now. He just needed time to- to meditate. He needed to purge these thoughts from his head and everything would be fine. Yes. Everything was going to be _just fine_.


	5. A Bad Idea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bringing Maul to the Temple had seemed like a good idea at the time, but there are some who are VERY opposed to it.

“I cannot believe that you and the Council are giving any sort of consideration to _this_.” Qui-Gon Jinn jabbed a finger at Obi-Wan, who tried to sink deeper into his borrowed robes. Beside him Maul grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight.

“He ran away from the AgriCorps because he couldn’t handle being a failure and then he somehow manages to stumble upon a fledgling Sith apprentice?” He shook his head. “He’s half Sith already and you question why I refused to train him? May I remind you that no wonder nobody in the Temple wanted him, either? Maybe there was a good reason for that!”

Obi-Wan could feel his face burning. He clenched his jaw, struggling not to cry. He had his emotions under control. He _did_. He wasn’t _volatile_ or i _mpulsive_ or any of the other adjectives that had haunted his years as an Initiate. He was, however, beginning to think he was stupid. Bringing Maul to the Temple had been a terrible idea, maybe the worst one he’d had in his whole life.

“A puzzle young Kenobi has brought us, yes,” Yoda said, leaning on his gimer stick. “But Fallen he has not. Not yet.”

Obi’s shoulders slumped. Even Master Yoda wasn’t on his side. And what had Qui-Gon meant about training him? He stole a quick glance at the still-ranting Master. He couldn’t imagine a worse pairing. Master Jinn was well respected, but he was also severe and reserved. Most of the time. As desperate as he was- or had been- to be a Jedi, he wondered if maybe he’d dodged a blaster bolt. Maul elbowed him, cupping a hand to his ear.

“I don’t like them,” he whispered. “We should leave.”

Hard-coded loyalty to the Order warred warred with the overwhelming urge to agree. He could feel the tension radiating off of Maul, but as he reached his decision Yoda turned and speared him with a look.

“Much confusion there is, yes, but many answers may yet be found. Keep them close we should.”

“Yes. In a closely-guarded cell,” Qui-Gon said.

Maul growled under his breath. Obi pressed against him and started checking the exits. They were far too high up for the windows to be an option, but there was another door across from the one they’d come in through. He consulted his mental map of the Temple layout. He’d never had occasion to visit the Council levels before, but he’d memorized the plans from the archives, dreaming of the day that he’d be walking those halls himself. This was not how he’d imagined it.

“A member of the Council you are not,” Yoda said, his voice sharper. “Appreciated your advice is, but demands you may not make. A chance you had to take another padawan. Refused you did! Clouded by the past you were then and clouded by the past you are now!” He tapped his stick on the floor.

“Master Yoda you _know_ what happened.” Qui-Gon sighed. “I simply don’t want history to repeat itself.”

Obi-Wan exchanged a look with Maul. They slid off their seats and started sauntering towards the back of the room, trying to steer clear of the Masters’ attention. Obi could feel a featherlight touch in the Force and a vague sense of _nothing interesting to see here_. He glanced at Maul, whose face was pinched in concentration.

They made it to the door without getting stopped. Obi was wildly curious about whatever history Qui-Gon had been speaking of, but the talk of padawans was uncomfortable and he could feel the pressure of a headache trying to form behind his eyes.

“Stop there you will, young Kenobi,” Yoda said, breaking off mid-lecture about a padawan named Xanatos.

Obi froze with his hand on the doorplate.

“They’re escaping! Guards!”

At the snap-hiss of an igniting saber Obi slammed the doorplate, all but hurling Maul ahead of him as the door opened. They dodged past the grasping Guards and ran, Obi keeping tight hold of Maul’s hand so they wouldn’t lose each other.

Fear pulsed, making it hard to remember what the layout of the halls was supposed to be. There were shouts behind them. Running feet. They were bound to be caught quickly. And punished. Wasn’t there anyone in the Temple who would help them?

The Force hummed and Obi lurched to the left through an intersection, dragging Maul with him. Yes, maybe there was someone after all. If they could just get there in time.


	6. A Pit-iful Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers the prompt BEFRIEND ME: Characters meeting for the first time. Obi-Wan just wants to help, but the tiny zabrak is willing to fight him AND the rancor.

Obi-Wan stared down into the pit, unable to believe what he was seeing. A young red-and-black zabrak who couldn’t have been more than ten was squaring off against a fully-grown rancor armed with little more than a spear.

The crowd around him cheered as the rancor charged, but the boy managing to score a gouge along its side. The odds were heavily in favor of the rancor and Obi felt his stomach curdle as bets were made on how the zabrak would be killed.

It was wrong. It was _wrong_. His instincts were screaming. Master Joru hadn’t believed him, had dismissed his certainty of the existence of another Force signature in Durdenn as the fantasies of someone still desperate to believe he might be a knight.

“You are in the AgriCorps now, Novice. You’d best get used to it.”

Instead Obi-Wan had ditched the training master and followed where the Force had led him. And where it led was here, to an illegal fighting ring steeped in Darkness and to a young boy who burned bright with fear and anger.

One of the bettors jostled against him, revealing a vibrowhip coiled on his belt. Obi didn’t even pause; he snatched the whip and leaped the wall down into the pit.

“My whip!” “Stop him!” “No interfering in the fight!” “Fifty creds says the rancor kills them both!”

Obi tuned out the voices and dodged as the zabrak swung the spear at him.

“Hey! I’m on your side!”

“Wrong!” The zabrak snarled at him, revealing sharp teeth with a bloodied gap in them. “I’ll kill you, too!”

Sensing an opportunity the rancor roared and charged again. Obi-Wan uncoiled the whip and switched it on. The zabrak ran towards the creature with a scream of his own and hurled the spear. On enormous curved hand swatted it aside while the other attempted to crush the zabrak.

“No!” Obi swung the whip and it connected with  sizzling crack, causing the rancor to flinch back. The zabrak rolled in the dirt and came up with some kind of edged weapon that he jammed into the rancor’s leg. It kicked out, sending the boy flying.

Obi snapped the whip, almost taking his own head off in the process, and ran towards the fallen zabrak.

“Get away!” His eyes were yellow, rimmed by red. He lashed out, revealing another knife in his hand.

“We need to get out of here! Let me help you!”

“I don’t need help!” The zabrak was on his feet again, if a little unsteady. “I am a weapon! Unstoppable!” He turned and hurled the knife at the rancor.

Obi felt a surge of Darkness in the Force. The knife sank into the rancor’s hide, making it scream. The crowd above was screaming, too. The mood was shifting, the anger getting worse. He tried to swing the whip again but it smacked his arm. The pain was excruciating and he lost his hold on the handle.

_Something is coming_. The thought filled him with dread. He checked on the zabrak, who was trying to retrieve his spear. Was the kid crazy?!

_Something is coming_. They needed to get out of here, now. The walls were too smooth; the organizers didn’t want anyone escaping. The rancor was hunched over, the zabrak was trying to salvage the broken spear, and the air was getting oppressive with… something.

Obi-Wan ran forward, scooping the zabrak under his arm.

“Let go! Fool! I’ll kriffing kill you!” 

Ignoring the screams and wriggling, Obi hitched him higher and said a silent prayer to the spirits of the Force for help as he headed at the rancor at full speed. He’d tried jumping tricks like this with his friends back at the Temple, but those conditions had been much, much safer. And he’d still broken his leg once. He couldn’t afford that now.

He pushed off with the Force and jumped. The rancor’s arm swung up as he landed on it, wobbled, and jumped again. Spectators were hurling things, now, and he felt sharp little teeth sink into his arm. He jumped again, Pushed, and managed to catch the railing with his free hand. Someone smashed a bottle over his fingers and he yelled, but he was already hauling himself and his enraged companion up and over onto the ground.

“Stop them!”

Hands grabbed and feet kicked, but Obi kept pushing, kept moving until they were in the open air again.

“Let go of me! Fripping scum!” The zabrak howled, trying to sink his teeth into Obi’s arm again.

“I’m trying to save you!” He dodged this way and that through the streets, trying to lose their pursuers, but behind that was something even darker and more terrible. Something told him that if it caught them the results would be deadly.

“I don’t need to be saved! My Master is coming!”

“The same Master who put you in a pit with a full-grown rancor?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t think I like your Master.”

He saw a narrow alleyway and plunged in, finally slowing to try and catch his breath.

“My Master is wonderful!” The zabrak kicked at him. “Fool! What do you know, anyway?”

Obi set him on the ground but kept careful hold of his bare arm. He could see fresh cuts and old scars.

“I know that a good Master doesn’t torture his padawan. That’s what you are, right? You’re Force sensitive.”

“My Master is making me stronger!” The zabrak tried to pull away, but his movements were getting sluggish. 

Obi-Wan realized that blood was seeping from a gouge in the youngling’s shoulder that he hadn’t noticed. He swore.

“We need to get you bandaged up and somewhere safer.”

“I don’t need your kriffing help! Let me go! My Master will be looking for me!”

“Yes, I’m sure he will.” Obi gave him a closer look, trying to catalogue any other injuries. “What’s your name?”

“Kriff you!” The zabrak bared his teeth again.

“That’s an unusual name. Mine’s Obi-Wan Kenobi. I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier.”

The zabrak’s glare could have sliced a freighter hull.

“I don’t know about you, Kriffyu, but I’m tired, sore, and hungry. I think we should get our injuries tended to, find something to eat, and then discuss whether or not you really want to go back to the Hutt-spawn who’s mistreating you.”

“I’m not hungry, you karking freak.” The zabrak’s stomach growled, making him scowl.

Despite everything Obi-Wan smiled. “Fine, then perhaps you can watch me eat. Come on, Kriffyu.”

The zabrak stood his ground for a minute then gave in and let Obi lead him through the alleyway into a neighboring street.

“Maul,” he muttered.

“Maul what?” Obi was scanning the crowd, making sure they weren’t being pursued.

“My name. Is Maul.”

Obi glanced at him, feeling a mix of pride and pity. “It’s nice to meet you, Maul. Let’s see about that food.”

“Whatever,” Maul said as his stomach gurgled again. “Idiot.”


	7. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Maul have done what the Jedi Council was too reluctant to do and now, together, they take one more chance.

The explosion took them by surprise. Obi-Wan came to with smoke sticking in his throat. The room looked blurry and although he could hear alarms they seemed tinny and distant.

Coughing hurt. So did sitting up. His face was covered in cuts and there was a searing burn across his chest that had cut right through his robes. The fight. Yes. They’d confronted Senator Palpatine. Or Darth Sidious, Maul’s former Master.

“Maul!” He tried to shout, but it came out as a croak. He stood on wobbly legs, one hand still clamped onto the hilt of his lightsaber, unable to let go. Focusing was still hard, but he could see a red and black lump on the other side of the room under an indent in the wall.

“Maul!” He limped over, shoving overturned chairs out of his way and knelt by his friend.

He didn’t uncurl from the fetal position when Obi turned him over. In addition to the various cuts and blisters from Force lightning two of his horns had broken off and the stumps were bleeding. His hands were clutched to his temples and his eyes were squinched shut.

“Are you okay?” It was an inane question and he knew it.

Maul’s eyes snapped open. His pupils were little more than pinpricks and he was staring at something Obi couldn’t see.

“Maul, it’s all right.” He brushed his fingers against Maul’s cheek. “We’ll get you some help.”

Shouts and thumps from beyond the locked door indicated that someone was coming, at least. Whether it was help or more trouble remained to be seen.

“Master!” Maul’s voice was high and strained. “Master, no!”

Ice settled in Obi’s chest as he realized what was happening. In a healthy relationship a Master-Padawan bond could be a good thing, helping both sides to understand the other. From what he could gather Sith bonds were more parasitic and if Maul’s bond to Palpatine- to Sidious- hadn’t been severed before…

“Maul, no! Stay with me!” Obi scooped him into his lap, cradling and turning his head so they could look each other in the eye. Not that Maul seemed to be seeing much at the moment.

“Master?”

“No! It’s me, Maul. Kenobi. Your Jedi scum. I’m right here.”

“It… hurts.” Maul grimaced, his eyes still unfocused.

“Shh, I know. I know it does.” Obi pressed his forehead to Maul’s, careful of the central horn. His other hand came up, knuckles rubbing along his jaw. “You don’t have to follow him, Maul. You don’t have to follow him anymore. Just stay here with me, OK?”

There was Darkness storming all around, but Obi centered himself and reached inward, grasping for the Light and gently pushing a tendril of it towards Maul.

“You’re better than this, Maul,” he murmured. “You’ve always been better. Stay with me.”

His com chirped, but he ignored it. Likely it was the Council demanding to know what was happening. He’d forwarded a message to them, telling them of their intent to take down the Sith Lord themselves rather than sit around and wait for the Council to hem and haw and deliberate and put off making a decision for another month.

“Mas…” Maul blinked, his golden eyes finally focusing. “…Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t stop grinning. “Welcome back, my friend.”

“What happened? Did we-?” His eyes widened. “He’s dead! He’s… he’s actually dead?”

“Rather spectacularly so,” Obi said. “He blew up on us. Literally.”

Maul sagged into his arms, giggling. “Dead. He’s dead. I can’t feel him.” 

Obi ignored his com as it chirped again. He was feeling a lot more light-headed now and seeing the look of wonder on Maul’s face wasn’t making that any better.

“We did it, Maul.”

“So we did.” His hand moved to the back of Obi’s neck. “And now we lounge here and wait for the authorities to come and punish us?”

Metal groaned behind them, the sound of voices getting louder. Obi didn’t turn to look.

“The Council might intervene on our behalf,” he said, his com still chirping.

Maul smirked. “Oh yes, and perhaps we’ll be hailed as heroes of the Republic, set up in a penthouse, and live out our days in the lap of luxury.”

“And you accuse _me_ of having wild fantasies,” Obi teased.

“Sometimes fantasies are all that get you through the day.” His fingers slid into Obi’s hair. “Thank you for helping me realize mine… Obi Wan.”

Was it his heart pounding so loudly? Or was it just the rescue crew? 

“Free,” Maul breathed. “I’m… _free_.”

“It was- was my pleasure to help.” His head dipped lower. He wasn’t really intending anything, but Maul tilted his face up, lips slightly parted, and he could feel a faint pressure on the back of his neck. He licked his own suddenly-dry lips.

“Is this… is this okay?”

In reply Maul kissed him. He tasted of blood and ozone and a sweet aftertaste of the tea they’d shared that morning. It was… not the best kiss, given the circumstances, but Obi’s heart sang.

The Sith Lord was dead, he and Maul were alive, and whatever else might happen, they still had each other.

“Fool,” Maul growled, nipping at his lip.

“Grump,” Obi replied, nuzzling him.

A few minutes later the rescue crew finished breaking down the door and guards poured into the room, weapons drawn. They found Obi-Wan and Maul standing together bleeding, burnt, and wearing very satisfied smiles. 


	8. A Hairy Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers the prompt "one character washing the other's hair."

“I am perfectly capable of washing my own hair, Maul!” 

“Of course you are,” Maul said. “And I’m sure the bacta wraps on your hands won’t get in the way at all.”

Obi-Wan huffed in annoyance. He _hated_ being an invalid. Given the chance, however, he would have made the same choices that had led to his injury.

_“You’re like something out of a damn holoventure,” Maul had complained as he followed him into the burning building._ They’d managed to get the younglings out, but Obi’s hands had gotten crisped and Maul’s foot had been injured kicking down a door to aid their escape. 

“Alright, fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Were you planning to wash the rest of me while you were at it?”

He’d meant it as a joke, but the appraising look Maul gave him had his heart speeding up. For no reason.

“Would you let me?”

Obi opened his mouth, but couldn’t make the words come out.

Maul looked away. “Never mind. The med droids did a decent job of wiping the worst of the grime off, but your hair is a mess.”

“I, uh… Yes, I suppose it is.” Instinct had him reaching up, not that he could feel anything. He knew from a look in a mirror that it was sticking up everywhere, filled with soot, grime, and fire suppressant.

“We’ll do it in the kitchen,” Maul said. “There’s more room in there.”

“It shouldn’t be _that_ difficult,” Obi said, wandering into the airy space that had first drawn him to these quarters. Maul disappeared briefly into the ‘fresher, returning with a bottle of shampoo and a towel.

“With you simple is never guaranteed. Sit.” Maul pulled out a chair and gestured before heading to the sink.

Obi did as ordered. “Wouldn’t it be easier if I stuck my head under the-”

Water doused his head, making him splutter. He heard Maul chuckle and glanced over to see him redirecting the water from the faucet, looking as smug as a tooka with a shimmerbird.

“Maul! That is a frivolous waste of-”

The stream of water dipped, splashing him in the face. He broke off, coughing. He was soaked. The floor was puddled. He sighed as water dripped into his eyes and straggled through his beard. It was also tickling down the back of his neck.

“Are you quite done making a mess?” He tried wiping his eyes with the back of his arm.

“At least until it’s time to rinse out the shampoo.”

A towel patted his face, catching most of the drips and excess. Obi squinted at Maul, who had the audacity to be smiling at him.

“You will of course be mopping this up when you’re done, right?”

“If I think of it, perhaps.” There was a gleam in his eyes, promising… something. Their color had softened over the years from a harsh yellow to a soft amber and they’d lost their bleeding red rims. 

Obi realized he was staring and looked away. 

“Yes, well, see that you do.”

Maul hummed, draping the towel over Obi’s shoulder before disappearing behind him. There was a faint splutch of sound and Obi caught a whiff of the meiloorun-scented shampoo he favored.

He’d never had his hair washed by another person before. He wasn’t sure he approved, at first. Maul’s hands hands rubbed the shampoo in with rough efficiency, working it into a lather. But then his fingers started combing through Obi’s hair, gently massaging his scalp as they went. Obi could feel himself relaxing into it, eyes closing of their own volition. It felt strangely intimate having Maul’s fingers sliding through his hair like this, little points of pressure rubbing back and forth and side to side.

“Your hair is a disaster, Kenobi,” Maul commented, his voice softer than usual.

“Mmm.” He was in an almost-meditative trance.

“You look like a wild bantha and the charred bits aren’t helping.”

“Perhaps you could trim it for me later.”

Maul’s hands stilled and Obi opened his eyes, wondering if he’d said something wrong.

“Perhaps I will.” He tugged on a foamy lock of hair. “Come on, Kenobi, move to the sink.”

“Oh? You aren’t going to unceremoniously dump more water over my head?” Obi-Wan stood, shrugging off his sopping robe and tossing it aside as he stepped carefully through the puddles to the sink.

“Not unless you want me to.” 

Maul’s hand was warm between his shoulders, nudging him downward. Elbows braced awkwardly on the counter to either side Obi bent over the sink, aware of just how… precarious their positions were. Maul’s hip bumped against his as he turned on the water.

“I think I’ll pass, thank you.” He tried to keep his voice light. “That is unless you’ve changed your mind about bathing me.” He had to close his eyes and mouth then as Maul shoved his head under the faucet and hot soapy water washed over his face.

“In your dreams, Kenobi,” Maul rumbled, fingers once again massaging Obi’s head as he rinsed out the shampoo.

Obi-Wan’s occasional dreams about Maul were _not_ something he needed to be thinking about right now. He wondered if he could adjust the water to be colder, and as he was thinking it one of Maul’s hands slid down along his cheek, nails digging into Obi’s beard.

“What are you-”

“Quiet,” Maul said, continuing to scratch through the beard. “If I’m washing your hair I may as well take care of this stupid thing, too.”

“My beard is not stupid.” Ignoring the shiver that raced along his spine Obi spat out a mouthful of water. “It makes me look dignified. You’re just jealous because you can’t grow one.”

“Correct. The… processes I underwent as a child rendered me hairless, but even if they hadn’t I’d still find your facial growth ridiculous.”

There was warm humor in his voice, but Obi-Wan paused at the reminder of the brutality Maul has suffered as a youngling, some of it while he was still little more than an infant.

The water cut off and Maul smacked the back of his head. “I can hear you feeling guilty, Kenobi. Stop it. None of that was your fault.”

“I know, but-”

The towel was dropped over his head and Maul began to dry it with more vigor than seemed necessary.

“Enough. You can’t change the past, but you’ve done more to change my future than anyone in my life, so stop fishing for reassurances.”

“I wasn’t-” Obi was cut off again as the towel moved across his face, gentling as Maul wiped at his eyes, down over his nose, and then worked along his cheeks and chin.

Obi studied the black-on-red marks of Maul’s skin. He’d heard part of their story before, but even with the new information he still found them beautiful. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, of course, Maul would just mock him. Still…

“There.” Maul flicked the towel over his own shoulder and tilted his head, studying.

Obi realized that his bandaged hands had somehow come to rest on Maul’s hips and quickly dropped them, feeling heat creep into his cheeks.

“Thank you, Maul. I… appreciate the help.”

Maul snorted. “Well, I can’t do much about your face, but at least I’ve restored some of your vanity. Such as it is.”

“Vanity? It’s only hair, my friend.” Laughing, Obi-Wan put a hand on Maul’s shoulder… and winced as it sent icy bolts of electricity up his arms.

“Vain and silly and a reckless do-gooder who is going to get us both killed one day.” Maul tugged a lock of hair that had drooped over Obi’s eyes. “Go and put on some dry clothes, if you can manage it. I’ll clean up the mess you made.”

Obi grinned. “So sorry for the inconvenience.”

“You aren’t, but I forgive you anyway.” Smiling, Maul went to retrieve the cleaning droid from its closet. Obi watched him for a minute before turning to head for his room, knowing that the scent of meilooruns and the feel of Maul’s fingers in his hair were likely to haunt his dreams for a good while to come.


	9. A Bad Idea, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Young Obi-Wan and Maul manage to hide from their pursuers within the Temple. Maul stretches his abilities to the limits while Obi tries to contact a friend for help.

The shouting followed them and Obi knew that the guards and their lightsabers weren’t far behind. The hall they were in felt familiar and in a burst of inspiration he used the Force on a panel, relieved to see it pop open.

“Quick!” He all but shoved Maul into the maintenance access and crammed himself in after, another tug sealing the panel behind them. Both of them were breathing hard and he could feel the wild double staccato of Maul’s hearts  beating counter to his own.

“Try and shield,” he whispered, taking a deeper breath and willing himself to calmness. His thoughts were scattered in all directions, though, and he’d never felt less capable of meditation.

“I can cover us,” Maul muttered. “I think.” 

Goosebumps ghosted along his arms as the air seemed to get chillier. Maybe they were near the cooling vents.

“They came this way!”

Obi twitched at the sudden voice.

“They can’t have gone far, sirs,” added another voice. “We’ll catch them.”

The Temple guard sounded certain, but Obi sent a silent wish into the Force that they’d remain hidden, at least for now. He could feel Maul shivering against him bud didn’t dare to move, the voices sounded like they were right outside the access panel.

“Hiding they may be,” Yoda said. “Many places there are for curious younglings to spy on their elders, yes?”

_He knows_. Obi felt colder than ever.

“We’ll make a thorough search of the area, Master Yoda, and report our findings to you immediately.” Bootheels receded.

“We can’t leave them loose in the Temple,” Qui-Gon said. “Think of the damage they could do!”

Obi smothered a flare of intense dislike. Why did Master Jinn hate them so much? He didn’t even know them!

“Damage? Hmm.” Yoda’s stick tap-tapped on the floor. “And yet already damage has been done. Damage to trust. To belief. Many months Young Kenobi has been missing. A runaway, the AgriCorps Masters believed, as is common with our failures.”

_A failure_. The word hurt, especially coming from someone as highly respected as Master Yoda.Obi did his best to stuff down those bad feelings, too. Maul shivered against him, a stark reminder of their precarious situation. He really should be trying to seek help instead of eavesdropping on a conversation. He took a deep breath and concentrated on centering.

“Yet return he did with an apprentice of the Dark Side.”

Obi tried to tune out Yoda’s voice. 

“Trust us he did to help this boy. Trust us now he will not!”

Eyes closed Obi searched through his headspace, locating a still-intact Initiate bond. He smiled as he recognized the feel of it and tried sending a nudge along the connection.

_Hnngmmb THE YASHUVHI SACRED SCROLL! Wuh? Obi? Izzat you?_

_Quin, did you fall asleep in the library again?_ Amusement and relief washed through him.

_No! How are you here? How are you alive? What’s wrong?_

Obi tried to mask his fear as he explained his situation, but wasn’t very successful. Quinlan Vos was amused ( _only you could find a mess this big, Kenobi_ ) and outraged on his behalf and promised to get them out of their hiding spot as soon as he could. When Obi pressed for details all he said was not to worry because Padawan Vos has a plan. Which, naturally, made him worry a lot. Still, it wasn’t like he had much choice and while Quin could be a bit wild Obi-Wan still trusted him. Mostly.

When he broke the connection he had the sense that he and Maul were alone in their section of the hallway. Maul was slumped against him, trembling, and Obi’s guilt came back.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, doing his best to keep Maul sliding to the floor. “I kriffed up. Big time. You were right. We never should have come here. I’m really sorry.”

Maul didn’t say anything, but he could feel nails digging into his arm through the robe.

“Next time I’ll listen to you. I promise. I have a friend who’s coming to get us out. A REAL friend. He gets in trouble with the Council a lot so you might like him.”

“Kriff you.” Maul’s voice was raspy.

He ignored the insult. “Thanks for shielding, by the way. That was pretty amazing. You’re a lot stronger than most of the people I know.”

Maul grunted.

It was tempting to try and fill the silence, but Obi was afraid someone would walk by and hear them and he also wasn’t sure how many ways he could find to say he was sorry before Maul bit him.

Maul tensed first, cocking his head towards the panel. A moment later Obi could hear it, too. Loud voices and... music? He groaned. It had to be part of Quin’s “plan.” Maybe this had been a bad idea, too.


	10. Up for Discussion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Sidious's death Obi-Wan and Maul are left to figure out a lot of things, including their feelings.

“I appreciate the offer, Miss Solana, but-”

“I told you, call me Stella!”

Obi-Wan bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grimacing. “ _Miss Solana,_ ” he repeated. “But as I explained, I’m not permitted to discuss the details of what happened.”

“Oh, I’m sure we could find a way around that!” 

Her holo-image simpered at him. Actually _simpered_. Obi had never actually seen an example of the word before and wished he could go back to not knowing.

“If this is about the money I’d be happy to twist my producer’s arm-”

“It isn’t about the money!” He took a deep breath and tried again. “I apologize, Miss Solana. This isn’t about the money or the endorsements or anything like that. As I said, my agreement with the Jedi Council and the Provost Marshal is such that I’m not allowed to discuss any details of, er, what happened in the Supreme Chancellor’s office and even if I could,” he said, talking over her attempt to interrupt, “I wouldn’t want to. Please. We’d just like to put that behind us and move on with our lives.”

“But-” Stella Solana, lead anchor for HNN, leaned forward, the holo proudly displaying her best assets.

“Thank you. Goodbye.” Obi cut the connection and pinched the bridge of his nose. They’d set up a program to try and screen out calls like that but the reporters were getting sneakier. He tapped the number into the database and leaned back in his chair.

“You should have haggled,” Maul said somewhere behind him. “Just to see how far she’d go to nail you. For an interview.”

Obi groaned, glancing back at him. “Don’t you start- fripping hells, Maul!”

He almost sprained something turning to look at him. Maul regarded him with an air of placid gloating and took another bite of his bloom fruit.

“What- what are you wearing?” He stared in horrified fascination.

Maul was naked to the waist, his most recent scars still livid against his skin. Black silky material draped his hips, blending perfectly with his tattoos. It wasn’t quite a loincloth and definitely wasn’t a skirt, but he was having trouble concentrating on exactly what it might be. The sheer material couldn’t quite hide what was underneath.

“This? I think it was a gift. Or maybe another of those endorsement offers.” Maul padded closer, making the- the garment sway with every step. “Do you like it?”

Obi swallowed and with a supreme effort of will managed to drag his eyes back up to Maul’s face. The bastard was smirking at him. The blush swept through his body, ending with heat pooling in his groin.

The simple answer was _YES_. Reality, however, was more complicated. They’d kissed amid the ashen remains of the Sith Lord who’d been Maul’s former Master, but how much of that had been real and how much had been a reaction to their situation? They’d been faltering their way towards understanding what they were now, but between the imprisonments, interrogations, inquisitions, and interviews it had been tricky to find time to themselves to sort it all out.

“I… that is… You, uh, you know we aren’t supposed to be accepting the things we get sent, right? It can’t seem like we’re accepting bribes.”

Maul rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t a bribe it was a gift. Why let it go to waste?”

“You know what I mean.” Obi stood. Being at crotch level was far too distracting.

“Shall I remove it, then?” He hooked his thumbs into the thin gold chain that acted as a… hemline. Or something.

“Maul.” Obi frowned, breaking into a cold sweat. “We- we can’t… this isn’t the time.”

Maul’s expression fell, shifting into a snarl. “It’s _never_ the right time! Every time I try and start something you come up with an excuse to back out of it!” He swiped at the air between them. “It’s always  _‘not now, Maul, I have to answer this missive from the Senate,’_ or  _‘I’m going for a walk to clear my head, you wait here for the noodles,’_ or some _kriffing_ interruption from your _kriffing_ precious Jedi Council that can’t wait five minutes!”

He’d started pacing, but even though it was doing interesting things to the drape of silk Obi-Wan was suddenly much more concerned with what was being said. Maul had to be exaggerating, right? It wasn’t like he was _running away_ from this, things just kept… coming up.

“I- I’m sorry, Maul. If you want to discuss this-”

“ _Discuss_ it?” Maul whirled on him. “Does this look like I want to _discuss_ something?” He gestured at himself. 

“I-”

“I tried being direct, but that clearly wasn’t working, so I thought if I tried it your way and seduced you first maybe we’d karking get somewhere for once!”

“You’re seducing me?” He clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late to take the words back. Obvious. It was so obvious. And the look Maul gave him sizzled.

“Yes, Kenobi,” he growled. “In my folly I actually thought this would be a good idea, but I can see now I was mistaken. Again.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Obi took a step toward him. “I just thought-”

Maul turned his back on him, tension defining every muscle. “You think too much. Like a Jedi.”

Obi hesitated, afraid to touch him. “But I’m not a Jedi. You know that. The only reason they tolerate me at all is because I helped take down a Sith Lord.”

“And yet you _still_ try to emulate them, you _still_ try to follow their rules.” He sighed, reaching up to rub his horns. “I apologize, Master Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan winced. “Don’t call me that.”

“I thought this was something we both wanted. It seems I was mistaken.” His hands curled into fists.

“No!” Obi felt his heart speed up as he reached out, brushing his fingers against Maul’s shoulder. “No, you’re not mistaken. I do want… This. I just…” He’d rehearsed this conversation dozens of times in his head and now he couldn’t think of a single right word to say. “I didn’t want to take advantage of you. Of us. Our… situation.”

Maul laughed, finally turning to face him.

“Take advantage of _me?_ ” The black mark over his eye arched upward. “Do you think I’m not intimately familiar with how it feels to be taken advantage of? And how to guard against it?”

Obi could feel his cheeks burning again. “I know, but- I mean, we’ve been together for for nearly ten years! Since we were younglings! And with everything that happened recently with your former Master and, uh, I didn’t want you to think I was, uh…”

“You fool.” Maul’s hands cupped his face. “You complete and utter fool.”He leaned closer and Obi’s breath caught in his chest. “Do you think that after ten years I haven’t figured out exactly what you’re capable of doing? And what you could never do?”

“I…” Obi desperately wanted to lick his lips, but with Maul’s face this close to his own he was afraid of what might happen. 

Maul grinned at him, all sharp teeth and gleaming eyes. “Did it ever occur to you that if we took advantage of each other we could both win?”

“That’s not… That’s…” He couldn’t come up with an argument against it and wasn’t sure he wanted to. His fingers ghosted along Maul’s ribs, wanting to explore farther along the trails of his tattoos.

“Do you want to kiss me or not?” Maul rumbled.

“Yes,” he said before his brain caught up. “I mean-”

Maul’s mouth covered his own, smothering the rest of the sentence. He tasted sweet and sharp like the fruit he’d been eating. Obi surrendered to the impulse with a soft moan, reveling in the press of their lips and the sliding of their tongues. One hand went to Maul’s back, fingers splaying against his hot, very naked skin. The other dropped down, rubbing against the silk.

 “See?” Maul nipped at Obi’s lip. “Isn’t this better than talking?”

Obi couldn’t articulate a response. His fingers dipped under the fall of silk to slide up along Maul’s thigh. Breath hitched. Strong arms pulled him even closer, fingers pressing into the back of his neck. The sound Maul made was somewhere between a growl and a purr and sent flickers of delight through his body.

“Kenobiiiii,” Maul hissed.

His inner voice was still warning him that he should stop, that they weren’t ready for this yet and still needed to talk this out. The rest of him smothered that voice, reveling in the moment. He was allowed to have good things. So was Maul. And this was a very very good thing that both of them clearly wanted. Discussion could come later. _Much_ later.


	11. Feeling Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul is absolutely, definitely not sick at all, but Obi-Wan tries to find a way to make him go back to bed.

“I said I’m _fine_ , Kenobi!” Maul huffed in annoyance. Or tried to. The breath rattled in his chest, forcing him to cough.

“Oh yes, you sound wonderful. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Obi-Wan trailed after him as he shuffled across the floor, which seemed to be radiating cold all of a sudden.

“You _don’t_ think. That’s your problem.” He wiped his nose on the sleeve of one of his robes, trying not to huddle within them for warmth. “Soft-hearted, soft-hea- HACHOO! Soft-headed fool.” He sniffled, trying to keep his eyes focused on the wavering door- and escape.

“I’m not the one acting like a fool right now.” Obi caught his hand. “Come on, just get back in bed.”

He turned to glare at him. “We need to restock the ship before we leave.”

“It can wait.” Obi reached up with his free hand, pressing it to Maul’s forehead.

His eyes closed involuntarily as he leaned into the touch. His feet were freezing, but the cool touch of Obi-Wan’s palm felt good.

“You have a fever.”

“I always run hot around you.” The words tumbled out of him before he even realized what he was saying. He reared back, glaring at Obi’s smile. “I mean you’re ly-” He broke off as another coughing fit hit him.

It left him doubled over, hands wrapped around his aching ribs as Obi rubbed his back. Fire clawed its way up his throat from his lungs and even his horns were throbbing. He felt a kiss pressed to his temple, warm lips and scratchy whiskers that made his skin prickle.

“Come to bed,” Obi murmured. 

“I’m not…” He grimaced. It felt like he’d been gargling sand.

Another kiss, this one at the base of his forward horn. And then one on his forehead. His eyes had closed again at some point and he struggled to open them as fingers trailed up his throat, lifting his chin for another kiss.

“Join me.”

There was a tug on the front of his robe. It was a shameless, obvious ploy and he cleared his throat, ready to tell Obi exactly how pathetic he was.

“Shhh.”

He found himself being pulled towards the bed and knew he should stop this nonsense right now, but his body seemed more interested in following Obi-Wan.

“Traitor,” he croaked, the word ending in another sneeze that he managed to catch in his collar.

“One day of rest won’t kill you,” Obi said, sliding the robes off him.

Maul shook his head, rallying his reserves to stand up straight. “Weak. Only the weak need rest and I’m nuh… not…” He wrinkled his nose against a tell-tale prickle.

He missed what happened next. One minute he was standing before Obi-Wan refusing to shiver and then he was airborn, landing with a bounce on the bed. Something rattled in his chest and he began coughing in earnest, curling on his side as Obi piled more blankets on top of him.

“Not- sick-” he wheezed, and then Obi was there, his chest pressed to Maul’s back and his hand splayed over his upper heart. Warmth radiated into him, easing some of the pain. He hummed as Obi nuzzled his neck, the beard rubbing pleasantly on his jaw.

“You shouldn’t be near me,” he muttered. Lethargy was setting in, making it hard to move.

“Why? Because you’re sick?” Obi nipped his earlobe. “I’ll take my chances.”

He wanted to argue, but the effort to find the words was too much. He sighed, drifting into a light doze. He knew when Obi left and when he came back, placing a damp cloth on his head that dribbled water between his horns. There were vile teas to drink, too, and pills to swallow. There was also kissing. And massaging. And other activities occasionally interrupted by bouts of coughing or sneezing or an endlessly drippy nose. If Obi-Wan was willing to “take his chances” with getting sick then Maul was damn well going to be sure that those chances paid off. Not that _he_ was sick, of course not, but if Obi-Wan somehow managed to get a cold, well, it’d serve him right, wouldn’t it? And then Maul would have his revenge. Yess.


	12. Adventures in Babysitting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up/expansion of Returning the Favor. Maul is stuck dealing with the younglings they've rescued from slavers while Obi-Wan handles the ship.

Obi-Wan kept up a steady stream of chatter on their way back to the ship. Maul remained wary, on guard in case anyone tried to seek retribution for their raid on the slave ring... or tried to profit on their own.

The younglings were huddled between them. Those that could walk, anyway. Obi had a young twi’lek girl cradled in one arm and Maul... Maul was stuck with the human infant. For unknown reasons the boy screamed whenever Obi got close to him. It had been funny at first, until he realized that meant _he_ was responsible for the squalling thing. It was currently gumming on the V of his shirt, leaving a large wet patch behind. 

He didn’t relax until they were on the ship with the doors bolted behind them. 

“There, now, we’re all safe, right?” Obi crouched to address the younglings. “Is anyone hungry?” He smiled at their nods and murmurs and looked up at Maul, who had a sudden dark premonition.

“Don’t even think-”

“Maul will take you to the galley to get something to eat while I get the ship powered up.”

“Kriff that! Kenobi, I’m not-”

“Language!” Obi set the Twi’lek girl on her feet and stood again. “Little ears are listening. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he continued before Maul could express his feelings about ‘little ears’, “I’m afraid I really must see to launch preparations.”

And with that he turned and left the loading area, leaving Maul alone with a bunch of sniffling, wide-eyed children whose emotions rippled through the Force as they stared up at him. He clutched the baby a little tighter.

“Fine. Follow me.” He stepped carefully around the cluster and was set to- not _run_ \- but walk speedily to the small kitchen area when he felt a tug on the hem of his robe. One of the Rodians had latched onto him, nearly disappearing into the folds. While he was distracted he felt something brush against his lowered hand. Before he could snatch it away tiny fingers wrapped around his own finger and he glared down at the Twi’lek, who stared back up at him, gumming her fist.

“Anyone else?” He’d meant it to be sarcastic. He should have known better. By the time he reached the kitchen only two of the freed slaves wasn’t holding on to him. It was a very slow walk and he was sure he could hear Obi-Wan snickering from the cockpit.

Feeding them was a long and messy affair that lasted through takeoff and exit from the atmosphere. The two oldest children, a Nautolan girl and another Rodian, helped him sort out the rations and make tea. Maul took vicious pleasure in delving into Obi’s dwindling stash of sapir. The baby was the most difficult. Marrin, the Nautolan, lectured him about infants and made him heat up some milk. He had to improvise a bottle and was sure that more of it wound up on him than in the baby, but at least it drank something. Burping was a nightmare he never wanted to repeat again. He was going to have to burn his robe when this was over.

There was still no sign of Obi-Wan, but Maul could hear his voice rising and falling in the measured tone he tended to adopt when negotiations weren’t going well. He was tempted to go and interrupt anyway, but the way was blocked by small bodies, several of whom were still clinging to him. The Twi’lek had managed to crawl into his lap while he was trying to deal with the baby and short of using the Force- which he knew Obi wouldn’t appreciate- he was stuck.

“Keysshi?” 

He glanced down to find the Twi’lek watching him through half-lidded eyes. "Did you say something?”

“Keysshi’na’su?”

“You want my... history?” He frowned. It was an unusual request even from an adult and not something he was inclined to share with anyone.

“Um.” Marrin tugged on one of her head tentacles. “I think she just means she wants to hear a story. You know. Bedtime story?”

Maul didn’t know. He’d never heard any bedtime stories. The other children, who’d been starting to drowse off wherever they’d sat themselves, perked up.

“We’re getting a story?”

The whisper passed through the room and Maul felt his hearts sink. Everyone crowded closer and he found himself the focus of a lot of unwanted attention. He huffed.

“I don’t know any stories.” He paused. “Sorry.”

“Naaarrrrsssuuuuu?” The Twi’lek pouted.

“Pleeeaaassseee?” Some of the others echoed. Even the Wookiee rumbled. The human baby reached up to pat his chin.

Maul glanced in the direction of the cockpit, wishing death, pain, and mutilation on the worthless corpse of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Fine. Would you like to know how I met Ken- how I met Obi-Wan?”

There was an excited chorus of yeses. Settling back in a vain attempt to make himself more comfortable Maul launched into his fight against the rancor, which he absolutely could have won without any interference...”

Later a noise startled Maul to wakefulness and he lifted his head to see Obi leaning in the doorway with an odd expression on his face. Something between amusement and... Hungry? Sad? He couldn’t tell.

“Comfortable?” Obi whispered.

“No,” Maul whispered back. “Kriff you, Kenobi.”

He had children on his lap, against his side, against his legs, and draped over his feet. Marrin was the only one who’d managed to stay awake until the end and she’d pronounced him a good storyteller before curling up with the Wookiee on his feet.

“I’ve found a place that will take them. Should only be a few days for us to get there.”

“Good.”

“Unless you wanted to keep a few?” Obi grinned. “The baby seems quite attached.”

Maul glanced down and sighed. There was a new soggy patch on his already-abused robe as the sleeping human suckled at it.

“No,” Maul said. “Absolutely not.”

There was a rustle of cloth as the Twi’lek, whom Maul had absolutely not tucked inside when she shivered, rolled over and flung a tiny arm around the equally small Rodian with her.

Obi covered his mouth but it wasn’t enough to hide his grin. Maul glared daggers. “One word of this, Kenobi, and you’re dead.”

“Hm. I really must see if I can find my holocamera.”

“Don’t you dare,” Maul hissed, but Obi was already turning away. He hissed again, wordless, and started plotting his revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keysshi- Traditional Twi’lek history ceremony where clan histories are recited. I could not for the life of me find anything that just meant story.  
> Narsu- Please


	13. Strays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maul finds a stray tooka and has a conflicted reaction to it.

“...Anyway, that just happens to be how I feel about it. What do you think?” Obi-Wan glanced aside at Maul. Who wasn’t there.

He whirled, the jolt of panic fading as he saw his spiky-headed friend nearly a block back, staring at something on the ground. He jogged back, dragging hair out of his eyes.

Maul was staring at... a stray tooka. The tooka was staring back at him. Neither of them moved.

“Maul?” Obi stopped a short distance away. There were a few people about, but none of them paid attention to the scene, walking around it without seeming to see anything.

Maul and the tooka continued their staring contest. The tooka was small and grimy, but beneath it all Obi could still see spots and swirls of color. The tip of one ear was missing and the other had several notches in it.

At last the tooka made a sound like a sick eopie and walked over to butt its head against Maul’s leg. The force was almost enough to knock him off balance. Obi covered his mouth to hide a smile.

“I think you’ve made a friend,” he said.

Maul turned his head to glare at him while the tooka continued to strop against him, purring like a rusty motivator. “It is vermin! A pest! Like you, Jedi!”

Obi bit back a sigh. He and Maul had been traveling together for a couple of weeks, now, but trust was a dubious thing and the insults (of which 'Jedi’ was one) were still frequent. Especially when Maul was angry, upset, or scared. Which was most of the time. If Obi-Wan ever got his hands on Maul’s former Master... well, he didn’t know what he’d do, but it’d be bad!

“It’s just... It’s just a tooka, Maul.” He knelt down, holding out his hand. “A stray. Kinda like us.” The tooka hissed at him and hid behind Maul. He smiled. “She reminds me of you.”

Maul hissed, but Obi could see his small frame trembling. “She’s not like me! She’s weak! Un- unwanted...”

Obi rose, carefully. The urge to pull him into a hug was almost overpowering, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to take the risk just yet.

“She’ll die...” 

It came out softly. He bowed his head as the tooka shifted in front of him again and made a raspy sound.

Obi made to reach out to him, but stopped again, trying to think of the right words. “She... doesn’t have to.”

“They always die,” Maul said, his voice wavering. “Every time I try-” 

He swallowed the rest of the sentence, but Obi could almost hear the words anyway. _Every time I try to help_. His heart ached and he added another tally mark to his list of grievances with Maul’s ex Master.

“Not this time,” he said, hearing the edge in his own voice. “I promise.”

Maul glanced up, eyes narrowed and lip curling.

“You’re allowed to help others, Maul. I mean it.”

“Caring for others is a weakness! I am not weak!” He stalked past Obi... after carefully stepping over the tooka.

“Caring for others is an honor.” Shaking his head, Obi moved to join him. Some lessons would take a while to unlearn. He couldn’t expect miracles. “But right now perhaps we should concentrate on finding shelter for the night. A lady in the market said there’s a frost advisory out.”

No response. That was as usual. Obi tried discussing their options anyway, hoping to ease Maul out of whatever old pain he was feeling. He was aware, this time, when Maul left his side, but he returned again almost instantly, although his gait was a little off. He turned to check on him and was greeted by a pair of baleful green eyes, glaring at him from Maul’s arms. Maul’s glare joined the tooka’s, daring him to say anything. Obi pretended not to notice and mentally shuffled their options, trying to remember which places wouldn’t mind a filthy- and likely pest-riddled- animal. Really, though, any place willing to overlook the presence of two underage younglings weren’t likely to care about other strays, either. As long as they got paid.

It was going to complicate things, but when he stole a glance at Maul to see the tiniest ghost of a smile on his face, he knew it was worth it.


	14. Fortress of Maulitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a prompt about cuddling in a blanket fort. Bonus appearance by Maul's tooka friend.

Obi-Wan pushed the loose panel aside and slipped into the abandoned room they’d claimed as their own.

“Hey Maul, I got some- yah!” He flinched as something smacked him in the face.

As his eyes finished adjusting to the lower light levels inside he stared. When he’d left a few hours earlier the room had been mostly bare, now it looked as if a fabric stall had exploded. There were sheets, scraps of material, and a few podracing flags strung up everywhere, creating a colorful warren. He ducked lower, trying to seek a path through.

“Maul?”

He heard muffled sniffling and his heart sank a little. He hadn’t been gone that long, had be? But then again judging by the look of the room it had been long enough. He started crawling through the passageway, pushing the bag of food ahead of him. 

“I brought dinner,” he said. “Some of those noodles you like. And I got some fish for Mew!”

“Mutilator,” Maul corrected, somewhere ahead and to his left. Obi adjusted his course, but as he went to push past what looked like his old robe the Force nudged him. He paused and pulled the robe aside with more care, revealing a row of broken blades and shards of glass.

“Leave it to Maul to booby trap a blanket fort,” he muttered under his breath.

The corner where their pallets were kept was cocooned with softer blankets, scraps of silk, and a few glow lights. Maul was curled in the middle of it all, forming a final protective barrier around a large calico tooka, who was glaring at Obi as she swished her tail against Maul’s red and black skin. Even her purr managed to sound aggressive.

“You really took that holo to heart, huh?” Obi-Wan decided to play it light. He could sense Maul’s turmoil swirling through the Force, but it didn’t seem to be directed at him.

“It had some adequate ideas.” Maul had his head tucked against Mutilator’s side, not looking at him. It was, technically, an indication of trust. Sort of.

“I like it,” he said, inching his way closer. Mutilator had lifted her head and was sniffing the air, so Obi reached into the bag and tossed her a piece of the fish. She snatched it out of the air without leaving Maul’s side.

“Of course I don’t remember the Starfinder twins including booby traps, but I guess you have to add your own touches.”

“I’d be a fool not to include some defenses.” Maul propped himself up on one arm, his yellow eyes looking distinctly redder. “What do you want from me, Kenobi?”

Obi swallowed his irritation. Not at Maul, but at the Master who had conditioned him to be suspicious of everything. In Maul’s world no one was ever nice unless they wanted something from you. The strongest existed to dominate the weak and exploit anyone who couldn’t stop them. Friendship was a trick. So was kindness. Some days Obi despaired of convincing him that this wasn’t part of an elaborate plot set up by his Master to prove how weak he was.

Having the tooka seemed to help. Her continuing existence was evidence that she wouldn’t be taken away or killed. By extension that meant Maul wouldn’t be taken away or punished, either. Maybe. Obi had a feeling that particular lesson would take more than a month to sink in.

“I brought dinner,” he repeated, pulling boxes of noodles from the bag. “I thought maybe you’d like to share?”

“I’m not hungry.” Maul flopped down again, the gurgle in his stomach making his words a lie.

“Maybe later, then.” Obi climbed onto the pallet near Maul. “Is it alright if I join you, then?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He stretched out, keeping an armlength between them, and waited to see what would happen. Would he go for the food? Or fall asleep? Try and start a fight? No. If he did it wouldn’t be the first time, but Obi had a vague hunch that things might go in another direction. Maybe it was just the coziness of the space they now occupied. A brightly colored Limmie Cup flag hung over them and the blankets under him were soft and smelled freshly laundered. He wasn’t about to ask where they’d come from.

He was still deep in thought when Mutilator stepped on his face on her way out for the night. He heard Maul stifle a giggle and heaved a theatrical sigh.

“I’m sure she does that on purpose.”

“Kenobi.”

“Mmm?”

“What are you hoping to gain from this charade of yours?”

Obi turned his head to find Maul staring at him.

“It isn’t a charade, Maul. But what I’m hoping to gain?” He shrugged. “I guess a friend, maybe, but failing that I’d be happy to know that you’re safe. Or at least better off than you were.”

Maul wrinkled his nose. “You’ve said that before.”

“And it’s still true. Or at least I like to think my company is better than that of an enraged rancor.”

“When you’re snoring I can’t always tell the difference.”

Obi rolled onto his side to stare at him. “Was that a joke?”

Instead of answering Maul got up and retrieved the boxes of noodles, stopping occasionally to unhook his nubbly horns from the hangings. Obi sat up as Maul waddled over and shoved one of the boxes into his hands.

“Thank you.”

Maul just grunted and plopped down beside him, close enough that they were touching.

Dinner was eaten in relative silence. The noodles were spicy, but not overly so. Obi was still grateful for the bulb of moof milk that had been included, though. By the time they were finished Maul was actively leaning against him.

“When you get tired of being nice it won’t matter. Mutilator and I can survive on our own without you. We’re strong.”

Obi’s heart ached. “Yes, you are, but you won’t be getting rid of me that easily.” He reached out to put his hand on Maul’s shoulder, keeping his movements slow in case he tried to stop it. He didn’t. “I consider you a… a friend, Maul, and friends stick together.”

Small yellow eyes stared up at him. “I can keep us all safe.”

“So I see.” Smiling, he gestured at the blanket fortress around them. “We’re well fortified against attack here. And quite cozy as well.”

“I like being warm. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there isn’t.” 

Maul was still leaning against him so Obi-Wan moved his arm, carefully draping it around him and pulling him a little closer. Maul allowed it, his nubs digging into Obi’s shoulder.

“One of these days you’re going to regret this.” Maul stifled a yawn, his eyes half-lidded.

“The only thing I regret is that I couldn’t find you sooner.”

“Mmph.”

Obi waited, but there was no further response beyond soft, even breaths. He studied the colorful billowing walls around them and marveled at how much Maul had extrapolated- and innovated- based off one forgettable scene in a cheesy holofilm.

“I’ll never abandon you,” he promised. “And I’ll make sure you get a chance at the kind of life you deserve, not the one your Master decided for you.”

The Forced hummed with agreement.


	15. You Scratch My Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First of three mini-fills for prompts. Maul gives Obi-Wan backscritches.

Maul opened his eyes. The room was quiet and dim. A single shaft of sunlight had found a gap in the blinds, spreading its warmth across his chest and Obi-Wan’s back. He turned his head, admiring how his pale skin seemed to glow, as if Light itself was trapped within. Freckles were scattered across Obi-Wan’s back, as were scars, though they were thankfully fewer in number.

He rolled onto his side, tracing one scar with his finger. That was from their mission on Jilrua, going up against the child slavers. And here were three parallel scratches left behind by his old tooka, Mutilator. Smiling, he dragged his nails along the marks, earning a twitch and an inquisitive noise from Obi-Wan.

“Go back to sleep, Kenobi.” He started higher the second time, between Obi-Wan’s shoulder blades and dragging down along his spine. He kept it light, enjoying the tug along his nail beds and the feel of smooth skin under his fingertips.

Obi-Wan’s back arched under him and he made a low, soft sound of pleasure.

“Like that, hmm? Just like a cat.” 

He continued to scratch Obi-Wan’s back, softer here and harder there, guided by the noises his partner was making and by his own impulses.

“You really are marvelous at that, you know,” Obi-Wan murmured some minutes later, his blue eyes half-open as he regarded Maul.

“I know.” Maul smiled back at him. “I do expect repayment in kind eventually.”

Obi-Wan grunted, his eyes closing again. “Of course. But first I think you missed a spot by my left shoulder.”

Maul poked him hard in the ribs, making him giggle. “Impertinent Jedi. You’ll pay for that!”

The backscratching devolved into a tickle fight that ended with them tangled around each other. Obi-Wan’s fingers idly scratched an arc along the curve of Maul’s shoulderblade. It  _was_ a good feeling and Maul drifted back to sleep, wrapped in a sense of warmth, safety, and… happiness. Yes, this was good.


	16. Sway with Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second of three mini-fills for prompts. Maul hates being at a party, but Obi tempts him to the dance floor with little kisses to his cheek.

“This is torture,” Maul announced, unfolding his arms as Obi-Wan handed him a glass of something that fizzed.

“It’s a celebration.” Obi-Wan clinked their glasses together and took a sip. It tasted almost like chocolate and warmed him down to his toes.

“As I said, torture.” Maul sniffed the drink and downed it in a gulp, wrinkling his nose. “We’re being punished.”

“It’s meant as a reward.” Obi nudged him with his elbow. “They want to thank us for what we did.”

“We didn’t do it for the reward. Or the thanks.” Maul stared as a server went by with a tray of edibles. One of the pastries lifted itself up and floated towards him. He snatched it from the air and crammed it into his mouth.

“Of course not. But etiquette in this case compels them to show their gratitude. The least we can do is be gracious about it.”

“Hmph.” 

Obi couldn’t quite hide his grin as Maul attempted to slouch into his clothes. It might have worked if he’d been in his usual robes or the loose-fitting styles her preferred, but a formal occasion called for a formal outfit. Obi had wheedled, cajoled, and all but threatened him into shopping. The end result was a simple but elegant black suit that gleamed red in certain lighting. It was cut to fit his small, lanky frame, leaving him no room to hide.

The music- from a live band- changed to something slower. Obi held out his hand. “Why don’t we dance?”

“No.” Maul glared at him. “I am not here to be put on display.”

“Actually, we both are.” Smiling, he levitated their empty glasses to a nearby table. “Come on, one dance and then we’ll leave. I promise.”

Obi could almost feel him weighing his options.

“It doesn’t matter,” he continued. “I don’t know how.”

“You’ve never let that stop you before.” Taking his hand, Obi led him out to the dance floor. “Anyway, all you really have to do is hold on and sway with me.”

Maul stood rigid as a statue as Obi wrapped his arms around him. “You’ve defeated a Sith Lord,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Maul’s cheek. “You can defeat this, too.” Another kiss; they seemed to relax him.

“Everyone is staring at us,” he grumbled, allowing himself to be dragged into motion. His hands came to rest at Obi’s hips, his red and black skin contrasting nicely with the smoky pearl of Obi’s own suit.

“Let them stare.” Obi pressed his lips to the base of the horn at his temple. “They can’t have you.”

Maul huffed against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Not nearly enough to get through this party.”

Maul lifted his head. “I knew it. You hate this, too.”

“Of course I do. But we need to store up some goodwill in case things go wrong. Again.” He sighed.

“Things always go wrong when we’re involved,” Maul said.

“Then it’s a good thing we’re good at getting out of trouble, too, isn’t it?”

The marks above Maul’s eyes lifted. “Including this party?”

Obi paused, listening. The song had changed to something more up-tempo. There were still some watchers, but for the most part they were on their own. “Including this party.”

“Finally.”

They laced their fingers together and made their escape.


	17. Feeling Tressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third of three mini-fills for prompts. Maul tries to fix a sleeping Obi-Wan's hair and gets distracted.

Maul realized he hadn’t heard anything out of Kenobi for a while and looked up from his datapad.

The space they were currently sharing was small but cozy and so far no one on the ship had discovered that they were occupying it. Kenobi was sprawled in a hammock where he’d been bouncing plans off Maul for the last hour or so as Maul tried to read. It seemed, however, that the day had finally caught up with him as he was sound asleep.

“I like you better this way,” Maul said.

Kenobi, of course, didn’t answer. Hair hung over his eyes, which remained closed even as Maul walked over to get a better look. He studied his companion for a moment and then ever so slowly reached out to brush his hair back.

He’d had it beaten into him at a young age that Jedi were fastidious to the point of obsession and that they would never lower themselves to the point of getting their hands dirty or otherwise appearing as anything less than perfect. A few years with Kenobi had forced him to amend that lesson, though. RIght now, for instance, Kenobi’s clothes were in disarray and not as clean as they could be. There was a faint smear of oil on one cheek and his hair, which had grown out unevenly since the last trim, was mussed. He ran his fingers through it, marveling at how soft it felt. Light glinted off strands of copper and golden brown.

He’d only meant to get the hair out of Kenobi’s eyes, but he combed through it again. And again. There was something almost mesmerizing about it. Calming. As he went to do it a fourth time, promising himself it’d be the last, Kenobi shifted, pressing his head into Maul’s palm.

Maul froze, his peace hardening into fear and guilt. If he got  _caught_ like this…! But it didn’t happen. Kenobi nudged against his palm again, sighed, and remained asleep. Maul snatched his hand away and retreated to the far side of the room, curling himself into a ball. What in the Sith hells had possessed him to do that? Even caring that Kenobi looked like- like an idiot when he slept stupid. What did  _he_ care? 

Something tickled his skin and he held up his hand to see one stray hair sticking to him. Heat burned in his cheeks as he plucked it off and discarded it. He didn’t care, he  _didn’t_. Hair is  _stupid_. All it does is get in the way. He  _knows_ this. So he absolutely  _does not want_  to do that again. And he most certainly doesn’t want Kenobi to be awake next time, eyes open as he leans closer…

Growling in frustration he clutched his horns and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to  _shove_ the thoughts out into the Force and away from him. He was calm. He was centered. He was in control. Everything was  _fine_ and  _normal_ and  _not weird_  at all. It took longer than usual, but eventually he managed to fall asleep.

On the other side of the room Obi-Wan lifted his hand to cover the spot Maul had touched and tried to will his heart to stop racing.


	18. Frozen Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small piece set sometime shortly after Obi-Wan rescues Maul. He's trying to introduce Maul to some of the better things in life, but Maul remains... dubious.

Maul stared at the lump of...  _stuff_ in the conical container Obi-Wan had given him. It was brown with streaks of black in it that Obi-Wan assured him were chocolate, but he’d spent enough time crawling through sewers to have doubts. A surreptitious side-look showed that his companion was actually  _licking_ the ball of goop in apparent enjoyment. Maul wrinkled his nose, hating everything about this, but he also didn’t want to appear  _weak_. He pulled the cone closer and sniffed. Contrary to expectations it smelled sweet. It also radiated cold.

“This is still frozen!” He glared at Obi-Wan.

“It won’t be for long if you don’t hurry up and eat it!” Obi grinned at him.

“Eat it frozen? You don’t cook your food first?”

Obi started to laugh, but then took a closer look at him. “You really haven’t had ice cream before, have you?”

Maul huffed, averting his eyes so he didn’t have to see That Look. “I can eat it! I’ve had worse things! Probably.”

Grimacing, he squinched his eyes shut, stuck out his tongue and dragged it along the frozen lump. Flavor assailed him before his tongue went numb from the cold. He retracted it into his mouth and opened first one eye, then the other. Obi was staring at him. He moved his tongue around, trying to identify what he was tasting, but all he could get was “sweet” and “milk.”

“It’s... not bad?” He tried another lick. And another. By now there were small rivulets running off the ice cream, down the cone, and over his fingers. It was a sticky, gross feeling, but the food itself wasn’t poisonous or rotting.

“This is okay,” he said, working to try and get the drips. “But it isn’t well made if it leaks everywhere.”

“That’s half the fun!” Obi’s own hand was covered as well. He’d stopped eating to stare as Maul experimented. “So you like it?” He gave a lick to his own cone.

“I guess.” Maul wasn’t about to admit anything, but he kept eating. It was food, he hadn’t had to fight for it, and it was helping him feel cooler on a sweltering day.

“See that? It wasn’t so hard was it?” Obi was smiling again, his mouth ringed in brown. “I can show you lots of other good things, too! Just you wait!”

Maul shrugged, choosing to concentrate on his melting food rather than coming up with a retort. Obi-Wan had dragged him out of the rancor pit and seemed determined be “nice” to him, but he was bound to get bored of it eventually. Or maybe Maul himself would be the one to escape. For now, though, he was willing to tolerate the company, and if that meant eating sweet frozen milk lumps well, it  _was_ pretty good.


	19. Abandonment Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a summary prompt: "Life on the streets wasn't always kind; even two weeks after, Obi-Wan was still suffering nightmares."

Obi-Wan’s head hurt. They hadn’t eaten any real food in days and it was hard to think past the gnawing hole in his stomach. It didn’t help that Maul kept mocking him for being soft or boasting- boasting!- about how many days he could go without eating before he passed out. It was infuriating. And appalling. No one Maul’s age (and he still hadn’t figured out how old that was as Maul himself didn’t know) should be experienced enough with starvation to know the answer to questions like that.

As unpleasant as his experience in the Temple had been at times, though, he always had enough food to eat and a warm place to sleep at night. Not that Obi felt much like sleeping. He was exhausted, but every time he closed his eyes nightmares wrapped around him. Sometimes they were dark, muddled things, shot through with red and the sound of people dying. He knew, somehow, that it was all his fault. Other times he was back at the Temple. He had a padawan braid and everyone said how proud they were of him, but he was bleeding through his robes and no one was listening to him. Teeth fell from his mouth as he begged Yoda to take him to the healer’s hall, but the Master had simply told him to get back to training as great things were expected of him.

The worst were of Maul dying in his arms. Sometimes as a child, sometimes older, he’d be chopped in half, chopped in pieces, burned, rotting, emaciated. There were endless variations, but the look in his eyes as he stared up at Obi-Wan was always the same: relief. “Finally,” he’d say, and the light would go out of his eyes. Obi would wake up shivering, face wet with tears and vowing to himself to never let that happen.

All this in less than two weeks together. He’d known he was in over his head from the start and it seemed as if nothing had gone right since then, but he’d still clung to the idea that he was doing the Right Thing and that the Force was with him. It was a hope that vanished like a puff of smoke when he struggled his way out of yet another red-tinged nightmare to find himself alone in the moldering basement they’d claimed for themselves. Investigation showed no sign of Maul and he spent a dizzy few hours on the streets trying to find him, but to no avail. Maul was gone, and Obi couldn’t entirely blame him for leaving. How many times had he said he could survive better without Obi dragging him down? How often had he reminded him that this was only temporary? That he could disappear on any ship he wanted as soon as he found the “right” one? That he didn’t need anyone’s help, least of all a soft, Temple-bred worm like Obi-Wan?

Eventually he gave up, retreating back to the abandoned basement and the dissolving sacks he was using as bedding. He sat, hunched over his lap, and tried to meditate. He wasn’t  _sulking_ , no. Jedi didn’t sulk. And neither did whatever Obi-Wan was now. Runaway. Outcast. Alone. He sniffled. His head hurt. His stomach hurt. And his heart, well… Everything ached. His eyes burned, too. Exhaustion. Just walking around the streets had burned up what little energy he had. He sank a little lower, trying not to give in to despair. What was he going to do now? Crawl back to the AgriCorp and beg forgiveness? Stay out here on the streets? He’d starve. But he wasn’t sure he could face the censure if he went back, either. And what would happen if they rejected him again?

A noise dragged him out of his brooding. There was another scrape and a shuffling sound. He looked up in time to see a battered duffel bag being shoved through the broken window. It landed on the floor with a thud.

Obi stood, trying to shake off the dizziness as a pair of booted feet crowded the window. Was it a vagrant? A thief looking for a new hideout?

“Hey,” he said. “You can’t come in here!”

The rest of the body slithered through, landing with ease to reveal a familiar red and black face.

“Make up your mind, Jedi.” Maul bent to retrieve the bag. “Either you want me here or you d-”

“Maul!” Relief washed through him and it was everything he could do to not hug the smaller boy. “You came back!”

“Obviously.” Rolling his eyes, Maul shoved the bag into Obi’s arms. “Here. Food ‘n blankets. And don’t pull that high and mighty kark about where it came from, okay?”

“You… food?” Delicious smells wafted up to him, making his stomach cramp.

“Small bites. And eat slowly or you’ll get sick,” Maul said, taking off his boots. They were at least two sizes too big and Obi briefly wondered where he’d gotten them before hunger reclaimed his attention. He opened the bag, trying not to drool onto the handful of sweet rolls. He took a bite of one and sat down, investigating the contents of the rest of the duffel. His jaw ached and he forced himself to chew slowly, savoring every grain of flavor. It was the best thing he’d tasted in forever!

“Where did you get all this?” In addition to the sweet rolls there was a tub of some kind of broth, a carton of noodles, a skewer of meat, and a variety of fruits and vegetables. There were also several soft blankets, a stained shirt advertising Hungry Hutt, and a couple of vibroblades.

“Around.” Shrugging, Maul reached out and snatched the skewer. “I would’ve been back an hour ago but I ran into some trouble.”

Obi’s gaze snapped to him, checking for visible injuries. All the red made it hard to tell, but he didn’t see anything obvious. “Are you OK?” He swallowed and took another bite.

Maul smirked. “They won’t be messing with me again.”

Obi frowned, but stayed quiet. They ate in silence, Maul handing over a chunk of meat that might have been bantha and snatching a roll for himself. Bottled water was produced from somewhere and Obi was careful in drinking that as well. What they didn’t eat was stowed away for later, and the practiced ease with which Maul did everything made Obi feel ashamed.  _He_ was older,  _he_ should have been the one taking care of everything. And yet here he was, being taken care of by the boy he’d rescued.

“I was afraid you’d left,” he said, scooting back to lean against a wall.

“I was getting supplies,” Maul said. “I didn’t want you with me because I knew you’d object.”

“Yes, well…” Obi shrugged. He couldn’t deny it. Temple training was too deeply ingrained in him, although he thought that might be changing after this. “Anyway, uh, thank you. I’m sorry that I-”

“Spare me your guilt-addled apologies, Jedi,” Maul said, throwing one of the blankets over him. “It isn’t your fault you’re soft!”

The blanket smelled vaguely floral. Obi pulled it off his head and wrapped himself in it. “I’m not soft,” he said, although he kinda was. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for-”

“Everything. Yeah, I know.” Maul yawned. “You’re the sorriest thing ever. Now get some sleep.” He cocooned himself in his own blanket so that only his horns were showing and laid down. “Maybe this time you can get through the night without screaming.”

Obi felt himself blushing. “Sorry.”

Maul made a rude sound, turned his back to him, and fell silent. Obi sagged with guilt and then sagged into sleep, tipping slowly over until he, too, was on the floor.

_He was running, trying to catch up to someone before something terrible happened, but no matter what he did all he accomplished was dragging himself forward inch by slow inch. He tried to shout out a warning but the other person was too far ahead. There was danger! He had to stop them! He had to…_

Warmth spread into his back, easing a chill he hadn’t even noticed. He leaned into it. The need to overtake the other figure was still urgent, but the sense of panic was retreating. Why was he running, anyway? Was there really anyone ahead of him? Something tickled his ear and he became aware of a soft staccato drumming. Almost like… like… purring. It reminded him of the time one of the creche masters had brought in their pet pittin. It had soft blue fur and a little pink nose. The nightmare blurred and reshaped until Obi found himself trying to gather up a bunch of kittens. The minute he got one into the box, another would escape, but he knew that even if he didn’t succeed everything would be OK. He reached up to pet the one that had fallen asleep on his shoulder, thinking nothing of the fact that this kitten had horns hidden in its fur. That was fine. All the kittens were fine. And maybe Obi could take a break, just for a little while. He sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he slept.

Maul felt the jagged ripples of tension smooth away and pressed his cheek a little more firmly to the back of Obi-Wan's shoulder. It wasn’t like he  _cared_ or anything, it was just that the Jedi scum was warm. Warm and  _quiet_ , now. That’s all he cared about. Warm and quiet and here. Not leaving him. Not selling him. Not even  _using_ him. His thoughts were getting fuzzier as he drifted back to sleep. He was distantly aware of a rumbling sound that seemed to match the vibrations in his chest. Whatever it was, it felt good. Content.  _Wait, is that me?_  He was asleep before he could find the answer.


	20. Opportunities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the single-word prompt "opportunities." On a far-flung world they had no intention of visiting Obi and Maul are presented with many opportunities. Most of them are bad, but one could prove very interesting.

“Think of it as an opportunity,” Obi-Wan said as he signed them up for slots on the transport.

“Think of it as an opportunity,” he said again after a “quick stop” led to the captain’s arrest and the ship (and crew) being impounded.

“Think of it as an opportunity,” he yelled as they ran through dusty streets to evade capture by thugs planning to sell them off with the rest of the ship.

“Think of it as-”

“If you say that one more time,” Maul growled, “I will shove a fistful of sand down your throat.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Okay, so maybe things haven’t exactly gone according to plan.”

Maul stared at him, one hand scratching at Mutilator’s greying chin. 

“We’ll get through this. Don’t we always?” Obi nudged Maul’s shoulder with his own. “We just need to earn some more credits and then we can afford passage out of here.”

“For  _all_ of us, right?” 

Obi shifted uneasily. “If we can. But we might have to settle for-”

“BEE!”

Small feet pattered against the dirt floor and Obi braced himself as a small blonde-haired boy flung himself at him. Air whooshed out of him at the force of the impact.

“Bee! Hi!” The boy grinned up at him.

“Hello, Anakin,” Obi wheezed.

“Mol! Mew!” Gripping Obi’s tunic in one sticky hand Anakin leaned across Maul’s lap to pet Mutilator, who allowed it with a resigned huff.

“Sorry.” Shmi Skywalker, Anakin’s mother and the woman who’d helped hide them from Gardulla’s enforcers, entered the room. “It seems that  _someone_ loaded Ani up on sweetcakes. It’ll take a while for the sugar rush to wear off.”

Obi turned to glare at Maul, who smiled back at him.

“Think of it as an  _opportunity_.”


End file.
